


you (put this spell on me)

by outofcases (hockeycaptains)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boy Kissing, Confessions, Curses, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Regret, and louis isn't mentioned at all oops just assume he exists out there somewhere, it's pretty fluffy and it ends happy so, niall appears very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeycaptains/pseuds/outofcases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What part of ‘don’t touch that’ did you not understand?" asks Zayn, eyes full of fire.  He’s standing dangerously still in front of Liam, and while they both know that all of this is a front for how worried and potentially freaked out he is, his anger is still searing hot.</p>
<p>Liam shifts from foot to foot, chastened.  His hands are twisted up in front of him, fidgeting, and he’s trying not to break Zayn’s eye contact.  ”I didn’t think anything would happen.”</p>
<p>Zayn sighs a long suffering sigh and runs a hand down his face, mumbling something Liam can’t fully hear.  It sounds suspiciously like “famous last words.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you (put this spell on me)

**Author's Note:**

> title from one direction's "Magic" because i'm a complete dork. originally posted on tumblr (find me at outofcases - i usually post fics first there, plus some drabbles that don't make it over here). i regret nothing. enjoy.

"What part of ‘don’t touch that’ did you not understand?" asks Zayn, eyes full of fire. He’s standing dangerously still in front of Liam, and while they both know that all of this is a front for how worried and potentially freaked out he is, his anger is still searing hot.

Liam shifts from foot to foot, chastened. His hands are twisted up in front of him, fidgeting, and he’s trying not to break Zayn’s eye contact. ”I didn’t think anything would happen.”

Zayn sighs a long suffering sigh and runs a hand down his face, mumbling something Liam can’t fully hear. It sounds suspiciously like “famous last words.”

Liam pales. ”When you say famous last words, you mean that as a joke, right? I’m not going to die because I picked up a vase that I wasn’t supposed to touch. Right?” Zayn doesn’t answer, and Liam’s voice gets higher. ”Oh, god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I’m a dead man. I’m an idiotic, cursed, dead man.”

"Dramatic," says Zayn, ghost of a smile licking his lips. "You’ll be fine once we figure out how to break it. Just don’t let anyone touch you until then."

Liam frowns. ”What about you? You touched me right when it happened and it was okay.” It’s the truth - Liam dropped the vase as soon as Zayn yelled at him to _put that down, Liam, are you serious? Why would you do that?_ and Zayn had rushed to his side, checking him over for any outward signs of distress. He still remembers how warm Zayn’s hand was over his wrist, his hairline, his neck.

"Anyone but me," Zayn amends, wrinkles on his forehead belying the fact that he doesn’t know any better than Liam why he’s the exception. Harry had come running when he heard the clamor, but when he offered a hand to pull Liam up the contact left a very real burn mark on Harry’s skin. It was red and tight and painful looking, and Harry left to run some cool water over it.

"Anyone but you," echoes Liam faintly. He doesn’t know if that will make this easier or more difficult.

…

Three sleepless nights later, he receives a phone call from “Zayn x” and picks up immediately because Zayn never calls when he can just text or wait to say it in person. ”Hey,” he says, lifting the phone up to his ear, “everything okay? It’s, like, nearly three in the morning.”

"Is it?" asks Zayn, and Liam hears some fumbling and a muffled curse before Zayn’s voice is clear across the line again. "Sorry, didn’t notice the time. Anyway, I figured out how to fix you. Like, how to get rid of the curse."

Liam perks up immediately. ”Seriously?” His voice is too loud and it echoes through the flat, but Niall is in Ireland for the week and Harry is in Los Angeles so Liam is the only one home and he can be as loud as he wants, thanks. Especially when something warrants this kind of excitement.

"Yeah," says Zayn, and they’re each feeding off of the other’s enthusiasm. "Apparently, a long time ago, the vase was used to hold bad energy or something, especially regret. There’s this whole weird history of witchcraft behind it, and at some point someone decided to curse it to affect anyone that touched it without knowing the story behind it."

Liam hums, trying to follow the story without getting lost in the cadence of Zayn’s voice. ”What do I have to do?”

"You have to find a way to fix your three biggest regrets - I’m not sure what it means by _biggest_ or _fix_ , exactly, I mean, it took me a while to translate this, and it had already been translated at least once from the original Latin so it might not be completely right, but I think as long as you get some closure around the ones that you think are the most important you should be fine.” Zayn sounds almost manic, the way he gets when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep and is instead subsisting on caffeine and pure determination.

The worrisome thing is, it takes Liam under a minute to pinpoint his three biggest regrets, can see them in his mind’s eye like dark splotches on a permanent record. ”Is that the only way?” he asks, hating the hesitance in his voice.

"Hey," says Zayn gently, "It’s okay. It’s just me."

"Just you," breathes Liam shakily, and he doesn’t have the guts to tell Zayn that that’s the root of the problem, "yeah, right, okay," because he knows Zayn would probably forgive him for murder or something equally vicious. That’s obviously not the problem (Liam is not a murderer, thank you very much), but when it’s all said and done their friendship might end up in shambles. Liam takes comfort in the fact that it’s Zayn, and Zayn would never ridicule him or put him down even if it does get messy. It’s a shallow comfort, but it’s something, and Liam clings to that.

Zayn yawns hugely into the phone, interrupting his thoughts, and they both chuckle quietly. ”We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Liam nods, knows that Zayn can’t see him. ”Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He doesn’t sleep a wink until the sun comes up.

…

Regret #1: not having pursued singing more seriously

He blushes when he tells Zayn, feels the heat trickling from the roots of his hair to the bottom of his chest. ”I used to think I’d be a singer,” he admits quietly, and Zayn just nods, encouraging Liam to continue with his dark, sweet eyes. ”My dad did, too, but I didn’t have the confidence, I guess.”

"I’ve heard you sing a few times, just around the house, and that. Your voice is sick. You’d smash it if you wanted to, I know you would." If Liam thought he was blushing before, right now his face feels like it’s on fire.

He’s smiling softly but he’s shaking his head. ”It was a dream I had when I was younger, more,” he says, and it’s mostly true, “but maybe if we just, like, made a video or something? Just for the fun of it - just to see, you know?”

Zayn’s smiling that smile where his tongue pushes at his teeth, and Liam is absolutely helpless not to grin back. ”I think that’s a great idea,” he says, “let’s go,” and he helps Liam stand up with a firm grip on his wrist. Liam may or may not push into it more than necessary; it’s just that it’s been almost a week since he’s had any genuine human contact outside of Zayn, and Zayn is sparing with his touches but never complains when Liam initiates a hug or wraps an arm around him. It’s confusing. Liam doesn’t know how much of it is genuinely being starved for contact and how much of it is just Zayn, or where the two overlap.

The video ends up being garbage. But, like, beautiful garbage. Liam can’t stop looking at his hands while he sings, and sometimes he pulls out stupid, cheesy, awkward dance moves that make Zayn cackle in the background. In the end, it’s essentially unusable, the audio too mucked up by wind and laughter, but Liam feels giggly and buoyant and the enthusiasm is infectious.

"I’m good," says Liam, once they’ve gotten back to his flat, "I think we’re done with that one." He flops back onto his bed while Zayn perches cross-legged near his knees.

"We can be done on one condition," says Zayn, and his eyes are playful and sparkling, and Liam loves this side of him so much he could burst with it.

Liam thinks _I would give you anything you asked for_ and says, “Oh? What’s that?”

Zayn unfolds his legs and lies down next to Liam. Their faces are closer together than they have any right to be. His voice drops to a whisper: “Promise you’ll sing for me whenever I ask you to.”

"Greedy," says Liam, but even as he says it he knows the look in his eyes must be unbearably fond. "Fine, deal, I’ll sing for you."

"Good," says Zayn, and his smile makes his eyes scrunch up and lights up his entire face and Liam has to think _best friend best friend best friend_ until the thumping of his heart dies down into something more mate-appropriate.

_One down, two to go_ , he thinks, and the nerves in his stomach twist like knives.

…

Regret #2: giving up boxing

"I just didn’t have the time, and then I never went back," he finishes, rubbing at the nape of his neck.

Zayn nods, looking optimistic. ”This should be easy, then! We can sign you back up at the gym for classes, or a trainer, or whatever works for your schedule.”

Liam allows himself a tentative smile. ”That would be good,” he says, “I’ve missed it.” He runs, now, the same way he always has, but the pound of his feet against wet pavement just doesn’t carry the same emotional satisfaction of slamming a fist into a bag, into a training pad, into something with a little bit of give. Boxing is an outlet he’s been denying himself for too long.

He lets Zayn drive him to the gym, and he lets Zayn pet at his stubble while he talks to the nice woman at the front desk, and he lets Zayn pick the music on the way back to his flat. The entire process is surprisingly painless, and now Liam will be going to the gym three times a week for an hour to train casually with a coach.

"I feel like that was too easy," he says, a little bit dazed at the fact that they’re done with step 2 so quickly.

Zayn wags a finger at him. ”Don’t say that. People say that in movies and then everything goes horribly wrong.”

Liam doesn’t say that regret #3 could very well be the thing that goes horribly wrong. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. Zayn starts petting his hair (which is absolutely cheating, because he knows it puts Liam to sleep), and he’s unconscious in just a handful of drowsy, content minutes.

…

"I was thinking," says Liam, so nervous he can feel his ears turning red, "maybe this curse isn’t so bad. It’s not like a lot of people touch me anyway, and we’re fine, so. Maybe we should just call it a day on the whole ‘break the curse’ thing."

Zayn, understandably, looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. ”We’re nearly there,” he says from where he’s sitting by the kitchen window. The light is coming in and hitting his eyes so they look like they’re made of honey, and Liam is so, completely done for. ”You can’t give up now.”

Liam is quiet, looking at the ground and fiddling with one of his rings.

"Is this about the third regret?" asks Zayn softly. Liam’s silence all but confirms it, and Zayn stands up to wrap Liam in a sweet, familiar hug. "You can do it." He sounds like he believes it, too, and Liam feels wretched but he’s also melting right into Zayn’s arms. "I promise I won’t judge you, I just want to help. We’ll get through it. It’s me and you, Liam, remember?"

Liam swallows hard and backs up, running a hand through his hair. His scalp feels hot and prickly. ”Me and you,” he says, “Yeah, I remember.”

As if he could forget.

…

Regret #3: Zayn

"Me? What does that mean?" Zayn looks increasingly distressed, like maybe Liam could somehow, possibly regret their years of friendship, which is probably the silliest thing Liam’s ever heard.

He knows he has to clarify, but he has no idea how to approach this, or where to even start. ”Well, not like that. I mean, my regret- it’s- I, uh. Well. Did you know I’ve fancied you pretty much since we met?” And, _wow_. Liam never thought he was smooth or anything, but that maybe takes the cake for the most awkward confession in the history of this entire planet.

Zayn looks completely shocked. ”I, uh, didn’t know that,” he answers, sitting completely still, but he hasn’t shifted away from Liam, so this could be going worse.

They’re side by side on Zayn’s front porch. Well, it’s less of a porch and more of a glorified doorway, but they’ve passed so many hours here just talking with their arms and legs and sides pressed together that this felt like right place to do this. ”My regret was that I never told you,” says Liam, rueful and quiet. When Zayn doesn’t answer, he pushes on, resisting the urge to turn to look at the other boy. ”This doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to. I didn’t want to make things weird between us. I wouldn’t even have said anything if I’d never picked up that vase.”

"I can’t believe this," says Zayn, and Liam wants to rush to apologize but Zayn is still talking, "I never even dreamed…this is what you were afraid to tell me? Why you didn’t want to finish breaking the curse?"

Liam nods, knows Zayn can see it out of the corner of his eye, and tries not to panic while Zayn processes the information. 

"Well, I can’t believe it took a cursed vase for this to happen, but I’m kind of in love with you. So you didn’t really have to be worried."

It’s like the blood in his veins has been replaced with sugar and cloud matter. Liam is having a hard time catching his breath. ”Kind of?” he teases while his heart tries to physically pound its way out of his chest.

Zayn grins, wide and goofy, and he is so, so beautiful. ”Massively,” he admits, reaching up and tipping Liam’s chin down until it’s at the right angle. Zayn nips at Liam’s lower lip playfully before pulling back. ”Yeah,” he says, pretending to consider it, “yeah, massively, still,” and Liam protests outrageously because he’s supposed to, and then they’re back to kissing.

Zayn’s mouth is insistent, drugging, and when they go inside he presses Liam against a wall and kisses him until his knees are weak.

"Should’ve done this ages ago," says Zayn, lips puffy and sensitive and red. "Guess we’re gonna have to make up for lost time."

As they fumble their way into the bedroom, Liam thinks that he couldn’t agree more.


End file.
